


i thought of you with love today

by orphan_account



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: But mostly angst, Diary/Journal, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-09
Updated: 2015-11-09
Packaged: 2018-04-30 16:50:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5171876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His Galahad had fallen.</p><p>Eggsy was gone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i thought of you with love today

**Author's Note:**

> warnings: foul language, character death, mentions of violence
> 
> title taken from a line in "In Our Hearts" by Rose M. De Leon

If Harry Hart thought that being an international espionage agent was difficult in the so-called ‘modern age’, it was at least ten times as gruelling post V-Day. The world was in, for lack of better words, complete shambles. 

 

Governments were collapsing by the hour with most of their politicians’ heads blown off. They’d garnered a bad reputation after V-Day, and honestly, Harry couldn’t blame them. Politicians and government officials were now seen as selfish pricks that cared more about their own lives and livelihoods than any citizen of their country. They were before, of course, but _now_ , there was a plethora of evidence to show for it. Ninety percent of the world’s leaders were under Valentine’s thumb, advocating silently for the ‘new world’. 

 

All those except for the ones locked up in his bunker. What was left of the news networks were scrambling for celebrities’ stories about their kidnappings and subsequently inhumane treatment. 

 

The British Royal family, for one, was the shining beacon of light in the world. It was widely known that none of them had been taken with Valentine’s plan. The Duke and Duchess of Cambridge were particularly outspoken about it, receiving sympathy from the general public as they proclaimed that they wouldn’t want their children growing up in Valentine’s world. 

 

The Swedish Royal family too, were a particular favourite of the public. Princess Tilde was a worldwide symbol of strength in the face of adversary. She helped set up shelters and psychotherapy for the many people in mainland Europe that faced mental trauma from what they’d endured because of Valentine and related well to the people’s feeling of betrayal from the rest of the world. Her own story about what happened to her when she disappeared spread quickly and she’d been hailed as a martyr. 

 

Eggsy liked teasing her about that one. He, on the other hand, got to live in relatively blissful peace on the public relations front, without all of the letters and thank-you’s and crying people on the streets. Instead, he faced an entirely new world and order of criminal on a day-to-day basis. 

 

They were amped up, more vicious than before with no laws holding them back anymore. There were, in all technicalities, no legal repercussions. It was a free-for-all out there and one of the only reasons that it wasn’t a big issue in the public world was Kingsman; the strongest out of the still-standing secret service organisations. All those linked to the government had fallen along with them, and it was pretty hard to be a privately owned agency. They managed to scrape by though.

 

And just as Harry said before, international espionage was a good ten times more dangerous job than it was a mere two years ago. 

 

Of course, he knew that quite well now; he’d learned his lesson. Perhaps in the harshest way possible-

 

-his Galahad had fallen.

 

Eggsy was lost.

 

* * *

 

Roxy Morton howled when she heard.

 

She yelled and cried and screamed herself hoarse, punching and kicking and _hurting_ everything in reach. Her canines even managed to make their way into Merlin’s arm when he got too close. It didn’t matter that he was the one who taught her a good half of what she knew about operations; she was nothing short of feral in that state. 

 

All she wanted was to make the world feel the pain that she did. After all, would it not weep for the man who’d saved it? 

 

She knew the answer now; no, it wouldn’t. It would keep on turning like nothing had happened, like there hadn’t just been a giant tear in the fabric of her reality. 

 

The world was cruel, Roxy Morton learned. And as it kept on spinning, she kept on howling.

 

* * *

 

Harry Hart wasn’t much better, in all honestly. 

 

He was worse. 

 

He kept a stiff upper lip for as long as it took for him to get back to his (and Eggsy’s) home. His sanctuary. The one place in the entire world that still smelled and looked and felt and tasted and sounded like his husband. He spent an entire three days curled up in a bed that didn’t smell like Eggsy anymore by the end of it, with JB tucked carefully into his side. Somehow even the silly little pug knew that there was something wrong with his beloved master. 

 

(The master who’d loved him and cared for him and _refused to shoot him_.)

 

JB yowled too.

 

* * *

 

Merlin was the silent pillar of support and he hated it.

 

It was silly and immaterial considering the situation, but there was a little something sitting in the bottom of his stomach asking why _he_ couldn’t shout his grief to the world, why _he_ couldn’t lay there all day in pain and directionless, why _he_ didn’t get enough time to mourn for Eggsy like the rest of them.

 

He had to comfort them; let Roxy push him around when she was reaching breaking point, let her scream and wail at him when she needed someone to blame, bring Harry the essentials to life, change his sheets, force him to go to the toilet and shower when he hadn’t moved in days, just staring blankly at his late husband’s side of the bed as if he’d come back to them. 

 

Merlin himself, on the other hand, had to wrest himself out of bed in the mornings and get on with his day like Eggsy hadn’t been there; mercilessly taking down drug cartels and crime syndicates. (And showing a particular ruthlessness with tall, brown haired, green eyed Caucasian males. It wasn’t _his_ fault that Eggsy’s killer bore a rather striking resemblance.)

 

He knew why, even if he didn't like to admit it. Being Merlin meant he had to take it all on, the good and the bad, and the privilege of being Merlin made up for it in the end. It was what he had to tell himself to stay sane, and he believed it.

 

* * *

 

The first month was the hardest. Eggsy was there with every step he took inside headquarters; he was around every corner with a joke, he was the ghost of a laugh in the other room, he was a looming presence that everyone felt but no one dared to acknowledge.

 

Not when Arthur was back for the first time in two weeks.

 

He looked awful. Hair uncombed, face ashen, suit rumpled and hanging off him, figure unhealthily thin. And most worrying- the fact he didn’t seem to care. He was the definition of lifeless, calling his agents to the Round Table and not saying anything to anyone (save Lancelot, he’d gotten the report of her unapproved ‘mission’ to the D.R.C. for a direct order of capture from Merlin) for at least three minutes.

 

And when words finally made their way out of his mouth... his _voice_. Hoarse, unused, weary, burnt-out. It was clear that the loss of his young love had taken a toll on him. Most of them were perversely glad that they didn’t have to see their Arthur so devastated before. If he was like this now, no-one wanted to know how he was a week previous. Lancelot had been bad enough; it was near-impossible to see her shellshocked expression and not feel a sympathetic pang of pain.

* * *

 

When the time came for someone to inform Michelle and Daisy, it was actually Merlin who went. 

 

Michelle too, screamed and cried and pushed and hit at him. Daisy didn’t understand. He supposed Michelle didn’t either; after all, she wasn’t the only one who’d cared deeply for Eggsy. It was Eggsy who’d saved her for all those years and for the first time, Merlin felt a pit of anger rise towards his best friend. _Maybe_ if he hadn’t made that _stupid_ comment about taking care of his mother, Eggsy wouldn’t have gotten himself in so deep in the first place. Then maybe he wouldn't have been on that mission that got him killed-

 

Merlin didn’t dare to make the same mistake with Daisy, just looked at her with sad eyes and thought about how she’d never see her brother again.

 

As expected, Michelle once again refused the medallion and Merlin had to pass it on to Daisy instead. He expected this outcome and already put the little amulet on Eggsy’s old chain, the one he left in his rooms in between missions for fear of losing it. 

 

“Call this number on the back when you need help. You can ask for _anything_ , Daisy. _Anything_ ; so use your favour wisely. Your brother did.” Merlin whispered. He had a feeling that he'd make _sure_  this little girl would never have cause to ever call the number. She would be watched by Lancelot, Arthur and Merlin himself like hawks. This time, Kingsman wouldn’t make the same mistake they made with Lee Unwin’s child.

 

“When will Eggsy be back?” The high, childish voice came from behind Merlin as he made his way out the door. He closed his eyes in pain. 

 

“I don’t know, child. I hope soon.”

 

* * *

 

A knock came on Harry’s door a month and a half after the loss of his Eggsy.

 

It was the boy's mother. They’d never really gotten along, no matter how hard Eggsy tried to make them see that he loved both of them and that neither would ever think to hurt him. Harry had blamed Michelle for releasing responsibility for Eggsy after Lee’s death and Michelle blamed him for getting her son involved in the very business that got her husband killed. Now, it wasn’t such a baseless accusation. If Harry was in Michelle’s place, he wouldn’t want himself anywhere near his child either. 

 

With all that said, it was a surprise to see her now, coming down to Harry’s of her own volition. He refused to play a bad host to her, not when he was hyperaware that she had Eggsy’s piercing eyes and those very eyes were dead and lifeless. It stabbed yet another blade of loss through Harry’s gut.

 

“Would you like to come in?” He asked politely. 

 

“No,” she answered shortly, “I don’t know what my boy saw in you, but he left you this. It was at the house, in his will and apparently it was important to get to you.” Michelle’s words were clipped and hurt, as though she felt it unfair that Harry got this little piece of her son that she didn’t. She held out a notebook, stuffed with various bits and bobs and that looked endearingly, messily Eggsy-like.

 

Harry knew somewhere in his mind that it was bad he didn’t feel sorry for feeling some sort of satisfaction. This was _his_ , from _Eggsy_. That was all that mattered right now.

 

“Thank you madam. Have a nice day.”

 

Clearly, she was grateful for the quick dismissal and turned on her heel the first chance she got. 

 

Harry shut the door to her retreating back. 

 

* * *

 

He made himself a cup of tea before returning to his sitting room and mentally preparing himself the best he could to go through Eggsy’s book. He’d been putting it off for as long as he could, but the hurt he would face in realising that Eggsy was gone again was far outweighed by the tantalising thought of basking in the irreplaceable warmth of Eggsy’s love, even if was only for a second. 

 

Harry opened the book. Eggsy’s lovely scribbles in black ink stood out on the whiteness of the page. 

 

_Hi Harry, Eggsy here. So it’s our first week and I was at Waitrose and they had this cute-ass notebook and I had to get it! I decided to write down everything I could think of about us in here because you’re brilliant and in light of recent events, I don’t think I could li-_

 

He slammed the book shut, calmly making it a place on the shelf for his most beloved books and silently retired back to his (and no-longer-Eggsy’s) bedroom, tears cutting rivers down his cheeks all the while.

 

Even if he hadn’t finished reading the sentence, Harry already knew what it said. _I don’t think I could live without you._

 

* * *

 

It took another three months, ten sessions with a psychologist and many, many cups of tea (and whiskey with Merlin) for him to finally open up Eggsy’s book again.

 

With a heavy sigh, he started reading again.

 

_Hi Harry, Eggsy here. So it’s our first week…_

 

_…I guess I’ll be writing down all my thoughts and whatever else I can think about you and me in here, since I don’t think I’ll be thinking of any other use for a cupcake covered notebook anytime soon. Here goes, I guess. Welcome to my brain, Harry. (that wasn’t meant to be nearly as ominous as it sounded, I swear on Merlin’s wand)_

 

_(that wasn’t meant to sound dirty either oops)_

 

And God help him, but that was the best laugh that Harry had in months. It almost felt like Eggsy was still here, like he’d just cracked a horribly filthy joke and grinned that toothy, shit-eating grin and Harry smiled right back where he would’ve scolded literally anyone else just because there was absolutely no way that he could ever do anything to take a smile off of Eggsy’s face.

 

Harry smiled softly and kept reading. Maybe this would be good for him. It was the first time since… the incident that he could think about his Eggsy without wanting to keep a stiff upper lip.

 

_…and don’t say anything to him, but I stole Percy’s pen to start writing this cause I’m at headquarters right now waiting for you to finish up some paperwork. Dais and me had all day today, if you can remember, and she helped me make some cupcakes so they’re waiting for us at home_ _if we ever get there cause you’re a slow working bastard_ _. Ugh._

 

_...I still love you though. But hurry the fuck up, I want takeaway tonight and we’re gonna get a grumpy delivery boy if we order past ten._

 

It was cathartic in a way, to be allowed so easily into Eggsy’s thoughts. He was a candid boy, with thoughts that jumped around like jackrabbits, but he could also be unerringly focused on one thing if it was important to him. Harry could finally _see_ that now, and appreciate it. Contrary to all reasoning, the constant gaps in Eggsy’s train of thought helped him to keep his mind off all of it, the undeniable  _fact_ that Eggsy was gone now. 

 

Apparently acknowledging that this was all reality helped in the grieving process. Harry thought it was a load of utter shit, but it helped Merlin keep his peace of mind when he was already on the brink of a breakdown and Harry wasn’t so selfish as to push his only friend even further.

 

Looking up at his wall clock, Harry realised that he’d been absorbed in Eggsy’s little book for hours now, just reading and savouring and reminiscing. It was probably exactly what Eggsy wanted him to do. 

 

With another sigh, Harry gently closed the book and placed it on his coffee table, getting up to take a shower and go to sleep.

 

It was the best sleep he’d gotten in months. He dreamt of happier times, with a laughing Eggsy and days that were once bright and kisses that felt like his soul was catching fire in the best way possible.

 

He still couldn’t help but feel like he wasn’t in the clear yet; that he still hadn’t crashed down into Earth since his fall from grace. 

 

He also found that in this moment. he couldn't bring himself to care. Eggsy was a warm presence in his mind and _nothing else mattered._

 

* * *

 

The next day, the first thing Harry did after he cleaned himself up and ate breakfast, was sit down on his couch and open up Eggsy’s book again. He smiled at the sight of the quick chicken scratch that his husband called writing, covering the page with some floating captions connected to the main body of text with messy arrows and there was no doubt in Harry’s mind that they were Eggsy’s afterthoughts on the situation. Most likely cheeky comments incriminating Harry for something or another. 

 

_Fuck, that was a great first actual date Harry. I didn’t know you were a contemporary art kinda bloke (and I’m pretty sure I never told you I was either?) but either way, I’m speechless. Love you a ton._

 

Harry smiled at the memory. The young Roxanne had slipped him a little information about Eggsy when they were first dating; first and foremost that he _loved_ art like nothing else. She told him amusedly that when he was younger, sometimes he’d go out late at night to a few abandoned spots in London to paint and that he kept a sketchbook under his mattress that he even went back to the estates to grab during their training period. Harry now knew it was on Eggsy’s side table and he was constantly amazed by his love’s talent. 

 

 _Daisy’s been asking for you, you great bastard!_ Harry could hear that hundred watt smile coming through even now. _What on earth did you do to corrupt my baby sister? I bet you slipped her cake, you cheater. Now she’s all excited before bed and I can’t get her to calm down! We are having_ _words_ _when I get home, mark my words Harry. (ps I love you)_

 

Harry suppressed another sad smile at the ghost of Eggsy’s mock-scolding voice that filtered through his ear. (It was extreme, but he knew he’d even take a hallucination if it meant he could sense Eggsy one way or another. Merlin had hauled him to the infirmary three times for taking drastic measures in the past month.) 

 

The entire next three pages were filled with little pictures of them together. 

 

Harry hadn’t expected _anything_ like that, so when he turned the page and was hit with tangible evidence of Eggsy’s smiling face right in front of him, there was nothing he could do but break down again.  

**Author's Note:**

> ...i literally have no idea
> 
> and remember, constructive criticism always helps! thank you for reading my lame attempt at angst if you made it this far xx
> 
> (p.s. for updates on how i'm going with continuing this you can check up on me on tumblr @re-morsmorde)


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